Hope
by Meni G
Summary: She prays that she'll never forget the angel of hope that saved her from her grief.


The city is being shelled again. Conflict has swelled into an uncontrollable force once more. And in a half-destroyed building, a Puella Magi collapses to her knees. Blood flows from a laceration above her left eyebrow, stinging her eye and staining her cheek ruby-red. But her physical injuries are nothing in comparison to her mental wounds, and as she drags herself up against the wall, she can feel the darkness seeping into her soul gem, clutching at her mind, her thoughts, her whole being. All she'd wished for was for her family to have enough food and medicine. And Kyubey had granted that wish, and now she has enough food and medicine, but no family to give it to. The outcome and final balance of hope and despair had been heartbreakingly cruel, but not nearly as cruel as finding out her soul had been torn out for this. She prays a bomb will hit the building before her soul gem becomes a grief seed.

"Ya Allah!" she screams, but she knows no one will hear her. Not here, not on this earth. She wonders even if God will hear her. She's not human anymore. She's something that exists against reason, something that shouldn't exist. Perhaps God will show her mercy when she becomes a witch, and send another Puella Magi to destroy her quickly, before she causes the very suffering she's tried so hard to fight. She hopes she doesn't hurt the girl. She hopes there will be flowers in her barrier. She hasn't seen flowers for so long. They've all been crushed and smothered by bombs, and dust and debris have salted every crevice in a cruel oppression of anything beautiful that might hope to grow in Aamaal's barren, hopeless world.

But there's suddenly a flash of light that illuminates the bleakness around her, which Aamaal mistakes momentarily for an explosion. But she's never seen an explosion of pale, pink light before. And in an instant, a young woman materialises before her in the air. Aamaal cries out in shock, but she feels no fear. The being that hovers above her, if she's even of this world, somehow seems to be near Aamaal's age, and she emanates a warm feeling that feels so foreign to Aamaal. It takes her a moment to recognise this feeling. It's hope.

Aamaal wonders if she's an angel, or a powerful faerie. Whoever or whatever she is, she is the most beautiful thing Aamaal has seen in her short life. Aamaal's childhood was obliterated into countless fragments long before she contracted, but she wonders if this is some surreal, precious fairy-tale God has given her before her soul joins her childhood in annihilation.

The angel smiles. Her radiance lights up the desolate building in arrays of dazzling, evanescent magenta, and Aamaal begins to cry. If this overwhelming beauty is the last thing she'll ever see, then she could not have asked for anything more.

_You've been so brave, Aamaal al Mehalel_. The angel's lips haven't moved, but there's a soothing voice in Aamaal's mind, like a clear bell's gentle ringing. The violence around her fades into obscurity. Nothing else matters. To hear the angel say her name is an indescribable feeling for Aamaal. It is as though that someone, somewhere, has known of her endless struggle. Aamaal has felt nothing but despair and wretched loneliness for so long now, but to think that at least someone has acknowledged her efforts – no matter how much she has failed – fills Aamaal with an all-consuming feeling of relief.

_My name is Madoka. You don't have to suffer anymore, Aamaal. I'm with you now._

"Madoka…" Aamaal repeats the unfamiliar name amidst her tears. She has never heard of an angel named Madoka, but she can't think of anything else this personification of hope would be.

The angel reaches out and touches a delicate hand to Aamaal's soul gem, and it's as though all of Aamaal's grief and trauma has instantly dissolved. She's never seen her soul gem so pure and untainted, gleaming almost as brightly as the angel herself. The angel gently folds her hand over the soul gem, and Aamaal sobs in weary gratitude as it fades beneath the angel's touch.

Aamaal's vision is blurred by her tears, and she's almost blinded by the angel's vivid light, but she can feel the angel beginning to leave her. She cries out and reaches out desperately, like a helpless child. And then, like the faintest of whispers, she feels a hand caress her face, wiping away her tears and smoothing the creases from her hijab.

_You were never alone, Aamaal._

As the angel vanishes in a glittering beam of rose-coloured light, Aamaal closes her eyes and smiles for the first time in what feels like years.


End file.
